


Moonflower

by shrike (lililiyabbay)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-04 11:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lililiyabbay/pseuds/shrike
Summary: Ever since knowing Jeonghan, Mingyu realizes that he is drowning. Yet his mouth sews itself, refusing words to escape.





	Moonflower

**Author's Note:**

> written for talk by hozier!
> 
> i made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1XbGdcSD7eUt7OADasgY6J?si=H83SLZRNRmO--s8f2IxJsQ) \- not particularly a necessity to listen to while reading, it's just a compilation of songs that remind me of mingyu & jeonghan in this fic. 
> 
> edited and proofread to the best of my ability. enjoy! <3

_The lawn drowned, the sky on fire,_  
_the gold light falling backward through the glass_  
_of every room. I'll give you my heart to make a place_  
_for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger._

— Richard Siken, _Snow and Dirty Rain_

Mingyu first saw the boy sobbing his eyes out on the subway stairs. He was on the exit escalator, listlessly on his phone, when his eyes took a break and landed on someone climbing down the stairs on the opposite side. The boy looked around his age, catching Mingyu’s attention with his open crying without any awareness of his surroundings. Despite that, Mingyu still averts his eyes when they pass each other, out of politeness. 

For the next few weeks, Mingyu hadn’t stopped thinking about that boy.

So imagine his surprise when he bumps into the same exact boy one morning at a diner. Mingyu hasn’t come home since last night, too busy tending to his wasted friends. It’s his first time to visit the diner, a place tucked in between residential complexes. That doesn’t seem to be the case with his friends.

“Hi, there,” Jeonghan, the boy, says. Mingyu learns his name through Soonyoung’s drunken greeting with its elongated vowels. “You guys had a fun night out?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer, expecting someone else who knows Jeonghan to do it, but he realizes after a beat too long that the silence comes from his friends being half passed out on the counter. 

“I didn’t,” Mingyu responds, way too late. 

Jeonghan simply smiles, then extends his hand. “I’m Jeonghan, though you can see that on my nametag,” he chuckles, pointing at said nametag. Mingyu didn’t notice, but he thinks it’s already pretty obvious Jeonghan works there as he’s standing behind the counter wearing a uniform. 

“I’m Mingyu.” He tightens his grip on Jeonghan’s hand. His hand feels lonely right after he lets go.

“These rascals—” Jeonghan points at Soonyoung and Minghao splayed on the counter. “—come here often on mornings like this. Usually with some other dudes. But I haven’t seen you around.”

“Made the mistake of going out for drinks with them,” Mingyu breathes his answer. “Minghao got wine drunk.”

An almost melodic chuckle. “Sounds like him.”

Though it seems like Jeonghan is used to having wasted dudes passed out on the counter, there is still guilt that Mingyu feels from just sitting there without ordering anything. But instead of saying he wants to order, Mingyu blurts out, “I think I met you before.”

Knowing that he didn’t mistake Jeonghan as anyone else, perfectly sure that he is the crying boy that he saw, he holds his breath waiting for the response. 

“You did? Where?” Jeonghan hums, thinking. “At a club?”

“No.”

“Oh, shame,” he blows a raspberry. Mingyu allows his eyes trained on Jeonghan’s lips. “I thought we hooked up and I don’t remember or something.”

Now Mingyu really wishes he had bought something, at least a beverage, because he knows how silly he looks right now, choking on air. Of anything that he expected to come out of Jeonghan’s mouth, that was the last. 

This sheds a new light on Jeonghan. It makes Mingyu look at him from a new perspective, he even looks him up and down to drink him in. Even in humble work uniform, just standing there, Mingyu finds himself enraptured by Jeonghan. His lithe body, his face the perfect mixture of sharp edges and soft curves, his skin smooth.

“So, uh,” Mingyu stutters. “Do you know Minghao and Soonyoung because they come here a lot?”

Smooth. But Mingyu is genuinely curious about it. 

Surprisingly, Jeonghan shakes his head with a small smile. “We’re in the dance club together. At school.”

“You go to the same school as us?” Mingyu asks, surprise overtaking his features before he can school them. 

“Yup,” Jeonghan says, popping the ‘p’. 

Mingyu hates having to hold himself back from staring at Jeonghan’s lips. He doesn’t want to be _ that _ guy. Being in such close proximity, though, the air has gotten a fraction degrees warmer. 

“I’ve never seen you at school.” A frown forms on Mingyu’s face, his furrowed face seeming to draw out an amused smile from Jeonghan. 

“I don’t think we’re even in the same department.”

“Huh.” Mingyu nods, then latches on the later detail of Jeonghan’s answer. “You’re in the dance club?” 

The rise of Mingyu’s voice manages to make Minghao stir from his unconscious state. For some reason, Mingyu doesn’t want Minghao to rouse yet, not wanting anything to disrupt his chat with Jeonghan. Fortunately for him, Minghao flops back onto his own arms after failing to pick his head up.

“Yeah, but I’m less active now,” Jeonghan says. Then he gestures around the interior of the diner. Its pastel walls and cream tiles. “Trying to balance work and school.”

After a ‘ah, I see’ nod from Mingyu, the silence lingers. The counter is clean and spotless, so are the booths by the windows, so it’s obvious there’s nothing for Jeonghan to mindlessly wipe just to fill the inactivity. How slow everything moves grates on Mingyu’s nerves greatly.

“Do you have any background in dance, then?” He easily picks up the topic again.

Jeonghan doesn’t seem surprised, if anything he looks quite grateful for the distraction from impending boredom in his future. “I used to do ballet when I was younger.” He barks a laugh at Mingyu’s transparent surprise. “Yeah, but I stopped in middle school. Some assholes wouldn’t stop mocking me for doing ballet.”

“But ballet is so cool! Fuck those dudes,” Mingyu seethes. Jeonghan keeps his smile, this time more genuine than polite. Scrounging up his brain for information he knows about ballet, he’d scraped up some tidbits from when he had one of his phases growing up. “I really like pirouettes in general.”

“That’s nice. Pirouette is beautiful. I had a hard time learning to do it, actually.”

Mingyu hums, trying to disguise his traveling eyes as simple admiration for Jeonghan. “I can totally imagine you doing ballet,” he blurts out. He immediately wants to whack himself. 

As much as pretending to be cool goes, Mingyu knows he’s on the verge of failing. Initially going for the aloof image to present to Jeonghan, he now feels overeager. He can’t stop slipping up and accidentally letting Jeonghan know how attractive he finds him, how he’s been scrutinizing every fine line of his body, the way his face is made out of delicate features framed with firm outlines. Now he makes up imageries of Jeonghan moving his body in a controlled manner, purposefully elegant and dainty, all from a single slice of information. 

“Ah, I don’t do it anymore,” Jeonghan absently says, crushing Mingyu’s daydreams in one go. “Now I wait in a diner.” 

Mingyu barely drank last night, nowhere close to making him tipsy, but that sobered him up quicker than anything he’s tried before. “Right. About that...I’m thinking of having some pancakes.”

He receives a salute, then is left alone to his devices and the mind-numbing silence. At this point, Soonyoung even starts to snore like he’s in his own bed. No one has paid a visit since them, the diner still as empty as it was a quarter of an hour ago. Mingyu starts staring holes into the door where Jeonghan disappeared into, certain it leads to the kitchen and the backdoor. An itch builds, urging him to stand up and feed into his curiosity, at least walk around if it’d help stave off his nosiness. Sitting around too much has never served him well.

Accordingly, he peels his ass off the plastic seat, opting to abandon his friends so he can stretch. His phone still shows half an hour before ten, too early on a weekend for him. The deafening music from the club echoes in his ears every five minutes, the bass reverberating under his skin. It was someone’s birthday, and Mingyu was appointed his friends’ designated guardian of the night, so he couldn’t drink at all, as much as he wanted to. There is a particular exhaustion that comes from being up all night sober, only to babysit two glorified infants. 

Mingyu is in the midst of staring at one of the paintings on the wall, when someone clears their throat, disrupting his evaluation of the, frankly, out of place painting. He turns to see Minghao also rousing from the sound, whipping his head around in confusion, as if he’s in a fugue state and doesn’t remember ever coming to this place in the first place. Mingyu switches his gaze from his friend, finding the source of the sound, and his eyes fall on Jeonghan standing over a steaming plate of pancakes.

“Breakfast is ready, sir,” Jeonghan announces, a small smile playing on his lips, unfairly alluring with the morning sun shining on him. The hairs on Mingyu’s thighs are standing up from the mere sight. It doesn’t help how he addresses Mingyu, too, his voice purposefully performative. 

A familiar groan that Mingyu identifies as Minghao’s resounds throughout the place. “You guys are gross, I’m hungover and this,” he says, pointing at Jeonghan and Mingyu, “is not exactly what I want to see.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes and revels in the chuckle that he gets out of Jeonghan from that. 

The narrowed eyes Mingyu receives from Minghao is as though saying ‘I-know-what-you’re-up-to’, his friend being as impervious as he always is. He’d hoped Soonyoung would wake up first and be a distraction to Mingyu’s growing fixation on Jeonghan, being his loud self, but alas, it had to be Minghao’s observant ass. 

When Mingyu looks at Jeonghan again, he finds him already staring. The same maddening smile hasn’t vanished, has only turned more amused and playful. Mingyu drops his gaze on the pancakes instead. Minghao’s unrelenting stare is starting to burn his right cheek. 

“Do you have coffee to go with this?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan says, voice light and indulging. “Black?”

Mingyu nods. God knows he needs it. 

Miraculously, the smell of coffee wafting is what pulls Soonyoung out of his slumber. His eyes can barely open, puffy, his whole face is bloated and splotched with red.

Jeonghan, bringing the coffee over, looks at Soonyoung in sympathy. “I thought it was someone else’s birthday party. Why are _ you _ this hammered?”

It doesn’t require an answer, not when Soonyoung can barely comprehend his surroundings, much less decipher Jeonghan’s words. The sight is pitiful enough for Mingyu to extend a hand and pat Soonyoung’s head, mussing up the hair even more. 

“Oh,” Minghao moans, “thank God. Coffee.”

The way Minghao perks up and gains clarity simply from the smell of coffee seems to amuse Jeonghan. Instead of paying his friends any heed, Mingyu focuses on the soft twirl of Jeonghan’s smile. How jarring and different compared to the broken down version of him that Mingyu first saw. Choked up coughs disrupt his thoughts, forcing him to look at Soonyoung hacking his lungs out. 

“I told you it’s hot!” Minghao says. Soonyoung glares at him, as if saying ‘_no, you didn’t_’. Mingyu sighs. At least their loudness seems to entertain Jeonghan.

“Well, enjoy your food,” Jeonghan says. He’s in the middle of taking his apron off when he looks back at Mingyu’s inquiring gaze. “I’m taking a smoke break.”

“Oh?”

“People don’t start coming until around lunchtime,” Jeonghan answers his unasked question. “You guys are the exception.”

“I’ll join you,” Mingyu says. His determination doesn’t seem to go through Jeonghan. “They’ll be fine.”

Mingyu doesn’t actually believe Soonyoung and Minghao – more particularly Soonyoung – will actually be fine left alone to their own devices, drunken haze still swathing over them and all, but he pretends to be confident in his strides as he follows Jeonghan out. They end up leaning on the brick wall on the side of the diner, Jeonghan struggling to light his cigarette as the wind keeps snuffing the flame. 

Jeonghan looks up from under the curtain of his hair, curiosity painting his face when he notices Mingyu’s extended hand shielding the zippo from the howling wind. “Thanks,” he grits out.

Mingyu accepts the cigarette Jeonghan offers him a moment later, stopping him from retracting his hand. He can’t tell he doesn’t exactly smoke, because then, what would his excuse be for following Jeonghan out during his smoke break? 

The smoke that blows back on their faces is warm. It’s rather fortunate that Mingyu has tried smoking from time to time, socially, enough to avoid embarrassment. He still doesn’t enjoy it, doesn’t understand why people voluntarily do it, but Jeonghan’s cigarette isn’t as bitter as some that he’s tried before. Or maybe it doesn’t taste as horrible because he seals his gaze on and around Jeonghan as he takes each drag. 

“Something on my face?” Jeonghan exhales a cloud of grey mist. 

It shouldn’t be attractive, dammit, but Mingyu can’t help but bite his lip from the sight. 

“Quite so,” he answers. 

Jeonghan looks down somewhere at the ground, eyelashes fanning over his skin, then drags his gaze toward Mingyu. His eyes are heavily lidded, as though he hadn’t been smoking only nicotine. 

“You’re honest,” Jeonghan notes. “I like that.”

Now that confounds Mingyu. He hasn’t said or answered enough to be deemed honest, hasn’t gotten to know Jeonghan enough for the other to claim that. 

“See?” Jeonghan says, absently gestures to Mingyu’s face. He realizes he’s been frowning. “Your face is a snitch.”

Mingyu clears his throat, swallows down the weird lump at the base of it. “Well, you like it. So I don’t mind.”

It baits a wonderful chuckle out of Jeonghan. Mingyu eyes his skinny wrist as he flicks it, letting dead ash hit the pavement. 

“What time do you get off your shift?” 

Jeonghan seems to sense that Mingyu is the type that can’t bear too-long-silences, so he takes a deliberate, long drag before answering. “At four. For today.”

“For today?”

The fact that Jeonghan doesn’t look irritated by Mingyu’s unending questions makes him elated, almost giddy. “I usually work the whole day, but I think they’ll let me off early. I’ve worked here forever—wouldn’t hurt to give me an exception.”

“Oh...” Mingyu trails off. “Do you have something to do after work, then?”

Jeonghan smiles, just a quick tug of his lips, before crushing the cigarette butt with the sole of his Converse. “Who knows,” he says, then leaves Mingyu alone.

There is exactly one minute interval where Mingyu lets things dawn on him. He, too, steps on the leftover cigarette after he gains clarity, dashing to run after Jeonghan.

That is how, several hours later, the clock about to graze four in the afternoon, Mingyu finds himself in front of the diner. 

He feels entirely silly, suddenly feeling like he did during his first growth spurt, lanky and awkward. He’s twenty one now, for God’s sake. A way bigger number compared to fourteen. 

The inside of the diner is moderately full, he can see Jeonghan bustling inside, walking back and forth without rest. 

Maybe Mingyu’s gaze is too piercing, too obvious, not that Mingyu is trying to be subtle, because Jeonghan actually halts in his steps in the middle of the diner to catch Mingyu’s eyes. His lips opens and shapes a round, a look of genuine surprise.

Mingyu waves at him, relieved when he gets a responding wave. Jeonghan taps his watch, Mingyu assumes it means he’s clocking out soon, so he gives him a thumbs up.

After delivering Minghao and Soonyoung to their respective dwellings, Mingyu had rushed home to take his time showering and prepping himself. He’d tried to look as pretty as he can, piling on so many skin care products that he’d been neglecting the past few weeks. He paid careful attention to his clothes as well, picking out casual clothing that doesn’t make him look desperate, something that doesn’t demand anything from Jeonghan, but also not sloppy. 

Despite all that, his confidence kind of takes a plunge when Jeonghan walks out, free of his apron, looking drop dead gorgeous even after hours of a shift, with a simple t-shirt and jeans. Unfair how he’d put so much effort to look decent, and Jeonghan doesn’t do much, yet appears jaw-dropping anyway.

“Have you had lunch yet?” Jeonghan looks at him weirdly. Mingyu realizes the time and scrambles to save himself. “Ah, I haven’t had any so I asked you that. Too late for lunch and too early for dinner, huh?”

“It’s okay,” Jeonghan says. His face melts into neutrality, to Mingyu’s relief. “I also haven’t.”

Mingyu lets out an affronted noise. “Why?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “I left early, so I didn’t take any more breaks.”

“Then we have to eat,” Mingyu concludes. A list of familiar restaurant names appear in his head. “I know this really good pizza place. Do you wanna go?”

“Eh, I don’t mind pizza.”

Mingyu makes a mental note of the lukewarm response, but doesn’t suggest another place. Ever since he’d thought long and hard about where he’d take Jeonghan to, his mind hasn’t allowed space for other places. It makes a decent conversation starter, too.

Which is how Mingyu fishes it out of Jeonghan, that Jeonghan actually prefers chicken. He apologizes, which Jeonghan waves off. Usually, he’d be pretty irked when what he says is taken lightly, especially when it comes to apologies, but this one wasn’t quite sincere. Mingyu had wanted to bring Jeonghan here in particular because of the atmosphere. 

In turn, Mingyu announces that today is his treat. Hearing that, Jeonghan perks up, then orders two pints of beer for both of them. Quite early for that, perhaps, but it helps loosen them up. 

Jeonghan prefers beer over other drinks, a cute trivia that Mingyu learns. During the course of their meal, Mingyu talks the most, but not seldom Jeonghan cuts him off, or speaks over him. It should be annoying, yet Mingyu doesn’t mind it. It feels refreshing and kind of a challenge. 

There are so many things they have that are opposite of each other, it’s downright almost impossible to find something they have in common. Though, every time they disclose their differing answers, it tickles them enough that they laugh. Mingyu is drawn, he’s enticed, that alone he is very much aware. But since Jeonghan doesn’t show the same response, he’s being cautious. As the sky outside turns into a darker hue, the slight buzz of the beer, too, make it harder for him to hold his tongue.

Come evening, Mingyu experiences a pleasant surprise. Jeonghan is the one who asks if it’s okay for them to get drinks.

“Seriously?” 

“You’re doubting me?”

Mingyu shakes his head, hard.

“Since you already paid for the food, the drinks are on me.”

Jeonghan trudges ahead, then, wading his way through the other restaurant patrons and waiters and waitresses while Mingyu hastily catches up with him. Too many people are wearing white shirt today, he almost loses Jeonghan. 

Mingyu succeeds stumbling out of the restaurant, almost bumping into Jeonghan who’s already standing, waiting outside. The sight that greets him is pitiful; Jeonghan is curling in on himself, arms wrapped tight around his own body, fending off the cold. 

“Here.” Mingyu already offers his jacket, done without thinking. 

The surprise that overtakes Jeonghan’s face is worth his impulsiveness, not to mention when it changes into a look of relief and gratitude. 

“What about you?” Jeonghan asks, eyeing Mingyu’s attire.

“It’s fine,” Mingyu lies. The cold is starting to get to him, too, actually. “My sweatshirt’s pretty thick.”

Jeonghan hums in reluctance. “Let’s go warm ourselves up quickly, then.”

How they warm up themselves, is by downing a few shots in the bar that Jeonghan recommends. It’s obvious how Jeonghan prefers sweeter stuff, though. Mingyu watches him order ‘his usual’, after cringing at the previous drink. 

“You don’t like hard liquors?” 

Jeonghan grimaces. “Not when it’s plain like that, not really.”

Mingyu’s amused chuckles aren’t appreciated, much apparent by the glare Jeonghan’s shooting at him. “What?” Mingyu asks through his laughs. It subsides after Jeonghan huffs indignantly, he even throws his hands up in surrender to appease Jeonghan. “Sorry, sorry. I prefer wine over this, too.”

Another thing that Mingyu learns: Jeonghan is _ brutal_. Grudges are something to be kept when it comes to Jeonghan. No matter how many times Mingyu sweet-talks him, coddles him, coaxes him, Jeonghan doesn’t budge and keeps sipping on his freshly served, special mix drink. 

After the first five minutes, which has already stretched Mingyu’s patience enough, he aims for the last resort. “I’ll cook you ramen if you forgive me.”

That successfully renders Jeonghan surprised. He tries to hide it, but Mingyu has been watching him for a while now, and of course he notices the way Jeonghan’s eyes widen microscopically. What he can’t do is identify what Jeonghan is feeling, what kind of emotion he’s experiencing. 

“You don’t even know if I like ramen or not,” Jeonghan accuses. He’s angling his body to face Mingyu, as much as the constraint of his wooden stool allows. 

“I can cook anything. It doesn’t have to be ramen.”

Jeonghan gazes at his now empty glass, twirling it between his fingers, an action that looks practiced out of habit. Mingyu tucks that knowledge inside his head. “Are you…” he starts slowly, “trying to bribe me with food?”

“Are you trying to tell me it won’t work?”

They stare each other then, not peeling gazes off the other, as if it’s some showdown. Maybe it’s the liquor, or just the overall aura the bar is giving, but Mingyu is starting to get warm. Jeonghan looks at him with an intensity that pierces through him, constant and unwavering. Mingyu is still Mingyu, after all, that even as he downs the last of his shots, he also doesn’t want to let go of their eye contact. 

It’s ruined by the clattering sound coming from behind the counter. Jeonghan breaks it off first, but Mingyu’s eyes still follow each of his movement. He barely registers Jeonghan’s voice asking the bartender if she’s okay. All he can currently focus on is the hollow of his neck, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, the sharp line of his jaw. 

Usually, not many people would be able to withstand Mingyu’s stare. But under the unrelenting gaze Mingyu’s put on him, Jeonghan seems unphased. 

Mingyu knows Jeonghan feels the same kind of urgency he does. Realizes this when he’s being half-dragged outside. They flag a cab to get to Mingyu’s place. Every time they get inside enclosed spaces, be it the backseat of a taxi, or the apartment’s elevator, the air feels especially charged. Almost electric. The brush of their arms alone sends a shiver down Mingyu’s spine. 

So, imagine, the current that runs through Mingyu’s veins when Jeonghan pulls him down by the neck, meeting the softness of Jeonghan’s lips halfway as they stumble in. The front door slamming behind them is a distant thing. “The ramen can wait,” Jeonghan whispers, briefly breaking off the kiss, then lets Mingyu kiss him again. 

Heat is coursing in his blood, along with the alcohol he’s just consumed. But he is so very sober when he tugs Jeonghan’s—his—jacket off, giving himself permission to roam his hands all over the contours of Jeonghan’s body. Every ridge. Jeonghan is careful, Mingyu notices, he hasn’t moved his arms from where they’re tied around Mingyu’s neck. So he lowers his hands, stops at Jeonghan’s ass, and pulls him to get their bodies flush against each other. 

The shared warmth, the constant moving, the alcohol still half numbing his senses, drive Mingyu absolutely crazy. He, by some magic, manages to maneuver both of them inside his room at last. Things feel awfully slow while it’s happening so fast. His own sweatshirt is not being cooperative at all, stuck when he tries to get it off him. He steps out of his pants easily, but next they struggle with Jeonghan’s jeans. 

No time is wasted once they’re on the bed, Mingyu hovering over Jeonghan, his mouth latching onto the nearest expanse of skin. It’s so, so beautifully easy to be with Jeonghan. Mingyu knows how to draw out sighs from Jeonghan, and vice versa. It’s almost instinctual, as he experimentally bites on the tender skin of Jeonghan’s neck. Maybe he himself doesn’t realize this, but Mingyu does, and it’s that Jeonghan is sort of _ loud_. 

Mingyu clamps him down with a kiss, quick and consuming. 

They lose themselves in each other, drowning themselves in every touch, every caress, every pleasured exhales. Neither has to guess what the other wants, it simply happens, each action is rewarded by gasps. Sweat gather around and on them, while they ceaselessly move against and with each other. It ends with completion, with fulfillment that has Mingyu keening the way he’s never had. He falls over next to Jeonghan then, equally panting and messy. 

The image of Jeonghan’s eyes shutting close, mouth parting in ecstasy before he bites down on his lower lip, has been imprinted on his mind. Even now, as he looks over beside him, Jeonghan’s face a shade of pretty red, the surface of his neck rendered colorful by the blood blooming under the skin, he still loves it. He’s proud he was the one who made Jeonghan look this blissed out and sated. 

Mingyu sighs, content, reaches out for Jeonghan’s waist. There is slight squirming under Mingyu’s arm, but it quickly subsides, the same way his vision does. 

Waking up is not among the list of things that Mingyu particularly likes. Especially not when his body feels out of sync, short of a few seconds too late from his brain. He wants to sleep it off. 

“Mingyu,” a voice calls out to him. A hand presses against his shoulder blade. “Wake up.”

The note of haste, subtle as it is, pushes Mingyu to crack his eyes open. What greets him is blinding sunlight, only mercifully toned down by the vague shape of a human in front of him. His vision gradually focuses then, revealing Jeonghan looking down on him, half standing with one knee propped on the bed, right next to Mingyu’s waist under the covers. 

“G’morning,” he murmurs back.

“Hi,” Jeonghan says. “I need to leave.”

Only then Mingyu realizes Jeonghan is fully clothed, hair already put into a semblance of styling, ready to go. Mingyu shakes off the last bouts of sleep before sitting up. “Sorry, you should’ve woken me up earlier.”

The barest hint of a smile grazes Jeonghan’s face, causing something to grow heavy in Mingyu’s chest. “You were sleeping so well. I couldn’t.”

“Ah…” Mingyu rubs the gunk in his eyes away. “I’ll see you out.”

“Here.” Jeonghan grabs a hastily folded stack of clothes familiar to Mingyu, places it on his lap. “You don’t have to. I just didn’t want to bump into your roommate.”

“I get it.” Mingyu sympathetically nods. He shoves his hand inside the pocket of his pants, in pursuit of his phone. In a practiced gesture, he unlocks it and presents it to Jeonghan. “Give me your number. I don’t know when else I can see you.”

A look of genuine surprise colors Jeonghan’s face. Mingyu doesn’t know how to interpret it. Does he expect Mingyu to dump him right after? Or maybe he was planning the other way around?

Before Jeonghan can get over his surprise and reject, Mingyu hops out of the bed, trying not to be bashful the way Jeonghan is, a quick aversion of eyes. He doesn’t give Jeonghan the chance to interrupt him as he steps into his pants, then puts his shirt back on, and lastly grabs his jacket. It was briefly worn by Jeonghan, so it’s most likely just his imagination, but there is a new smell that clings onto the material. Softer than Mingyu’s cologne. He places it back on the bed.

“Okay, go ahead,” Mingyu urges.

Jeonghan gingerly gets out of bed, then, steps light on the wood of Mingyu’s floor. They pad silently towards the front door, making sure to be quiet as they pass Jihoon’s room. The door is ajar, the room is barely lit with the light coming through the curtains. Mingyu quickly moves on.

“Do you know how to get yourself home?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeonghan confirms. He hands Mingyu his phone back. “That’s my number.”

“‘Angel’?” Mingyu asks, voice laced with unconcealed amusement as he looks down at the contact name. “I’ll text you.”

“Alright. See you.”

Mingyu stays. Stays until Jeonghan’s broad back is swallowed by the closing elevator doors. Only then he allows himself to bury his face in his palms, images from last night replaying, headache pounding under his temples but his chest light. Giddy. 

The next time they get together is not long after the first, Mingyu had sent a text that he’s free, Jeonghan calls him saying he’s nearby, and they end up at Mingyu’s place again.

Like the first time, it’s overwhelmingly easy to be with Jeonghan. All his guesses, about what might set Jeonghan off, are right. The way he prods at Jeonghan, gentle at some parts, hard when it’s needed, feels almost instinctive. 

Unlike the first time, doing things sober this time around, Mingyu can finally appreciate how beautifully Jeonghan occupies the space on Mingyu’s bed, among tangled sheets. He savors every noise he can coax out of Jeonghan, hand ceaselessly working. With renewed clarity, he’s suddenly become religious, when he catches Jeonghan’s lips between his, pulls at the bottom lip between his teeth gently. 

Mingyu talks a lot. That’s a fact that he can admit. But when Jeonghan is here, when they’re together in his bed, his ears are tuned to every sigh, every request Jeonghan might have. Every urge to go on, to go faster, there is a particular pleasure in giving someone what they want. His mouth is only put to use how Jeonghan likes it. 

When they kiss, their bodies melting into each other’s, Jeonghan pulls at Mingyu’s hair. “Keep going,” he breathes, when Mingyu pushes in from an altered angle. Fingernails scrape against the skin of his scalp, and Mingyu groans. 

The night is still young, so after they catch their breaths, Jeonghan excuses himself. Doesn’t apologize for leaving early. Doesn’t promise when they can see each other again. 

All warmth is taken away from Mingyu, along with every step that Jeonghan takes. He lies there until his skin cools down. The echo of the door closing shut has gone silent long ago, but it remains, pulsing against the inside walls of Mingyu’s throat. 

Despite how empty Mingyu feels afterwards, it keeps happening. Again and again. More and more. Each time, Mingyu finds new things to make Jeonghan keen, and moan louder. The only thing that makes it bearable is how the addiction doesn’t only possess Mingyu, but also Jeonghan. Apparent in how he seeks Mingyu out between gaps of time where they can’t bury themselves in each other. 

One upgrade is that Jeonghan now stays after they sleep together. Stays for breakfast. Stays for dinner. Sometimes even before they fuck. Comes to Mingyu’s place earlier and forces Mingyu to watch something on Netflix with him. It’s a lot less colder than before. 

Minghao notices Mingyu’s absences, his increasing amount of rainchecks. 

If someone sits him down, asks him why he’s doing this, Mingyu wouldn’t have any answer. He has no idea why and when he starts choosing Jeonghan’s company over his friends. Why he sacrifices game nights and picture hunting days just to be with Jeonghan and feels completely hollow after the night ends. 

“Athena is nasty,” Jeonghan declares.

The topic is brought up when Mingyu starts talking about their opposing preferences. He’d asked if Jeonghan prefers Harry Potter or Percy Jackson, and the answer is Harry Potter, simply because Jeonghan has never read Percy Jackson. Mingyu defends Percy Jackson with his life, though, then Jeonghan makes fun of him for making the Percy Jackson books the only reference he has on Greek mythology. Which is how they somehow end up arguing about which god is more decent than the other. 

“Why?” Mingyu challenges. “Because she’s a woman?”

“God, no,” Jeonghan snaps, affronted. “She is way too self-centered. She knows the power she possesses, and gave Medusa and Arachne such nasty curses. All because she’s petty.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes then, thinking. “Well, Arachne kind of deserved that, no? She challenged a goddess, though that punishment _ is _ harsh. But with Medusa, don’t you think that, in a way, Athena gave her means to protect herself?”

“No, she’s just petty and hates the fact Medusa had sex with Poseidon in her temple. So much for being a virgin goddess. The least she could do is let people have their fun. Stingy bitch.”

Mingyu snorts. Jeonghan always does this. They could talk about the divine, about politics, about cosmic subjects, and he talks about big names like they’re someone in his 9 a.m. class, or another patron in the diner. 

“Poseidon forced himself on Medusa, you know.” Mingyu smiles in satisfaction at the surprise painting Jeonghan’s face. “If we look at it this way, ‘cursing’ Medusa could be a way to give her a weapon, so men can’t harm her sexually anymore.”

The silence that follows is off putting. It stretches on longer than Mingyu usually allows, but he doesn’t bother filling it. Jeonghan pretends to ponder, when he never actually has any other retort, he’s just finding an ammunition to argue with Mingyu.

Jeonghan opens his mouth, Mingyu already knows it’s to whine, so he slides closer into Jeonghan’s space on the couch, invading his bubble. The tips of their noses are touching, barely, but Jeonghan clacks his mouth shut at the sudden intrusion. He bites down on his lip, drawing Mingyu’s eyes to look at it, as it reddens under the pressure. 

Under Mingyu’s fingers, Jeonghan is pliant. Yields under the touch on his jaw, presents more of himself for Mingyu. The minute is spent by Mingyu trailing his hands all over Jeonghan’s body, roaming. One hand cups the nape of his neck, one travels down to caress the clothed flesh of Jeonghan’s thigh. Mingyu finds satisfaction in the way Jeonghan’s breath speeds up. Still, he’s stubborn, not letting Mingyu know what he wants, not telling Mingyu to either stop or go faster. 

Even the most patient man has limits, it seems, so Mingyu stops teasing, leaving one last blazing stroke from the inside of Jeonghan’s thighs and outward to his hips. He reaches out, cups Jeonghan’s chin gingerly. His thumb flits across the surface of Jeonghan’s lips, intentionally depriving each other of what they’ve been craving. He presses against the plushness of Jeonghan’s bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open. 

Mingyu clenches his free hand when Jeonghan takes his thumb in his mouth, and _ sucks_. This might be a retaliation from before, when Mingyu won’t let him win the argument. He can feel Jeonghan’s tongue swirling around his finger, maddening, making him realize just how sensitive the nerves in his thumb can be. They’ve done more than this, but it feels way filthier than when they’re naked on bed, skin on skin.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, surprised when he glances up and meets Jeonghan’s gaze already on him. Burning.

He’s about to pull his finger back when the front door slams open. In his panic, Mingyu yanks his thumb out of Jeonghan’s mouth, teeth scraping against his skin. Jihoon stands in the doorway, in the midst of kicking his shoes off. Beside him, Jeonghan snorts, failing to conceal his laugh. Mingyu knocks at his ankle. 

“Oh, hi,” Jihoon says. He’s gotten friendly with Jeonghan, to Mingyu’s absolute marvel. It’s rare for Jihoon to take a liking to someone so fast. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan shoots back, standing up. “I was just about to leave.” 

Mingyu snaps his head up in surprise. Jeonghan hasn’t said anything about leaving. They barely did anything as well. He’s not stupid enough to not hold his tongue, though, rolling back the whine that almost spills out.

Jeonghan refuses to be seen out, making a quick work of donning his coat and shoes before leaving with a soft click of the front door closing.

Jihoon hums from the kitchen. “Now that’s the face of devastation.”

Mingyu flops on his back, splayed over on the couch. “He left way too soon,” he complains.

“Like he doesn’t usually just fuck you and go?”

Heat consumes Mingyu’s face. “We didn’t even fuck.”

“How curious.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jihoon dismisses. The sound of spoon clanging against ceramic gently resounds across the apartment. “Actually, he came by once. But you were out.”

That gets Mingyu sitting up in a flash. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? When?”

Jihoon takes his time for sure, letting Mingyu hanging as he sips on his freshly made coffee. 

“You went on a run. He came over, saying he wanted to see you before his shift. Super early.”

Mingyu curses, scrambling to get his phone. Jihoon snorts.

“You know, you should do something about him,” he advises. “Your feelings are about to burst. It won’t be pretty and I’m not excited for when it happens.”

“Feelings?” Mingyu asks absently. “You’re a comedian.”

“Go outside, go see Minghao. Or Soonyoung, even.” Jihoon slurps his coffee again. “They’d know what to do. I can’t really help.”

“I don’t need to. I already know what I’m doing.”

“Sure, sure.”

Sometimes Jeonghan comes over for the weirdest of reasons. He comes, half barging in, pushes Mingyu inside, pins him on his bed and kisses him senseless. He only deems it satisfactory when both of them are out of breath, reeling, head dizzy from lack of oxygen. Then he goes out to the balcony to smoke a few cigarettes. 

At this point, Mingyu is clueless. Doesn’t know if he should ask if he’s alright. If this is just how Jeonghan is. He trails after him, sits next to him on the dusty floor. Even though it’s fucking freezing. 

This isn’t even the strangest thing to happen. Another time, Jeonghan drops by to ask which poster is more annoying to look at, if it was hung. But not on his bedroom wall. On the whiteboard of his Philosophy class. Apparently, it’s to spite his professor. Naturally, they argue about it. Mingyu says both aren’t irritating enough, Jeonghan claims those are the most aggravating posters he’s found. At least on his screen, through Craigslist. 

There is also time when Mingyu walks in on Jeonghan and Jihoon _ baking cakes_, of all things. Jeonghan claims they’re close enough to do that, and it’s better than the oven in Mingyu’s apartment not being used. Jihoon doesn’t say anything.

Mingyu is sleeping. Was sleeping. Until his phone ceaselessly rings on his nightstand. He knows it’s probably witching hour, and usually he’d silence his phone right there and then. But something compels him to reach out, squinting at the screen with a lot of sleep in his eyes.

It’s Jeonghan. And it’s 2 a.m.

He can easily dismiss it as a drunk call, but it’s a weeknight. The most Jeonghan drinks during nights where he either has classes or work the next day, is a few pints of beer. 

“Hello?” 

The air on the other line crackles, sounds like breath blown too closely to the mouthpiece.

“_I’m outside._”

Mingyu blinks, peels the phone off his ear to take a double take at the screen. 

“Are you drunk?”

Silence. Mingyu’s skin crawls the more seconds tick by.

“_No. Sorry, I’ll go home._”

“No!” Mingyu wiggles out of the tangled comforter. “I’m coming.”

Jeonghan is really there, standing bug-eyed in a threadbare hoodie. His face is pale and gaunt in the way it never was, shocking Mingyu. 

Mingyu pulls him in by the wrist, quickly shutting the door behind him, frown deepening when he can feel how thin the hoodie is. 

“It’s freezing, and you went out like this?” 

Jeonghan breathes in the narrow space, head hung. The only thing Mingyu can see from his angle is the messy tuft of his hair, barely escaping the hoodie. Mingyu sighs, looking up at the ceiling, begging for guidance to whatever is watching. Enlightenment doesn’t come to him in an instant, and he’s notoriously impatient, so he does the one thing he knows how. 

His loose grip around Jeonghan’s wrist tightens, and he pulls him closer. His other arm comes up around Jeonghan’s shoulders, the hand gingerly guiding Jeonghan’s head to lean on him. 

Breath fans out on Mingyu’s collarbone. A feathery thing. One weak hand finds a way to clutch onto the front of Mingyu’s shirt. Something akin to an anchor.

He sits Jeonghan down on the couch shortly after. “Do you want to drink anything? Tea?”

Jeonghan takes a long second before responding. “If you don’t mind.”

Truth to be told, Mingyu isn’t sure if he or Jihoon has tea stocked up. Fate seems to be looking out for him, because he finds some tea bags in one of the tupperwares. 

Mingyu goes to sit beside Jeonghan, watching as the tea is gradually downed. He doesn’t know what to do. Afraid and clueless about how to touch Jeonghan when they’re not in the bedroom. Scared of the emotions he’s neatly compartmentalized. Terrified of running his mouth and saying things that will acknowledge how he feels.

“Have you eaten?”

Jeonghan takes another pause before shaking his head.

“Do you wanna get some McDonald’s?”

He waits until Jeonghan empties the cup, places it on the coffee table. “Only if you also want to.”

He sighs. Things can get irritating, when Jeonghan can’t decide and always leaves the options to Mingyu. At first Mingyu had found it annoying, but he gradually realizes, Jeonghan isn’t doing it on purpose to rile him up. He simply likes following other people’s choice. 

“Let’s get some drive-thru,” Mingyu says. “I’ll borrow Jihoon’s car.”

Jeonghan’s face budges then, concern breaking through the statue-like expression. 

“It’s okay, I do this often.”

Mingyu has half a mind to knock on Jihoon’s door to borrow his car, but he’d rather not wake his roommate up. He’s always lent the car, the previous times it’s needed on short notice. He still shoots Jihoon a text, though, at least letting him know.

They ride the elevator down to the basement in silence, Jeonghan becoming disturbingly still again. 

When he can spot Jihoon’s car, Mingyu tries not to let his relief be so obvious. The air is stuffed with the anticipation of him saying something, but without the words, the need to talk is useless. Nothing comes up. 

Mingyu lets Jeonghan tamper with the radio, fumbling with it until he finds a station he likes. It doesn’t stop, more like Jeonghan just trying to find something to do. Mingyu tamps down the urge to stop him. 

They roll into the drive-thru, inputting their orders at the machine. 

“What do you wanna eat?”

Jeonghan has moved onto fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie now. “I’ll have whatever you have.”

“Okay.”

Mingyu orders an extra cream soup as an afterthought. Remembering how eagerly Jeonghan had consumed the hot tea he made, the cold must’ve gotten to him. 

Another bout of silence rolls over them as they wait. This time, Jeonghan has his knees tucked under his chin, curled up on himself in his seat. 

There are no words of consolation that Mingyu possesses, not when he hasn’t the slightest idea what’s going on with Jeonghan. He extends his hand instead, offering his palm. 

His eyelids drop shut when he feels fingers slot themselves between the gaps of his own. It’s gentle, the same gesture but the notion miles different compared to when they’re clutching onto each other during sex. 

It’s briefly ruined when their orders arrive, but Mingyu quickly reclaims Jeonghan’s hand, now knowing that the other doesn’t mind. 

He gives Jeonghan the soup first, urging him to warm himself up from the inside. “Are you cold?” he asks.

Jeonghan blinks slowly. “A bit.”

Mingyu cranks the heater up.

“Anything else?”

A shake of the head. _ Nothing else_.

Mingyu watches until Jeonghan puts aside the now empty plastic bowl of the cream soup. He readily hands him the burger and fries, unintentionally frowning, thinking if that’s even a fulfilling meal at all.

They sit in silence, eating their food as an excuse to stop holding hands. Mingyu’s hand is starting to feel colder by the minute. 

“Thanks,” Jeonghan says into the quiet. 

That takes Mingyu by surprise while he’s in the midst of a big bite. Lucky for him he doesn’t choke. 

“I’m sorry this is the only way I can help. I can’t offer you words or anything.”

The airy laugh that escapes Jeonghan is refreshing, cutting Mingyu off. “That’s exactly why I come to you. You’d be there, no questions asked. No unnecessary talking.”

_ But I want to talk to you_, Mingyu thinks. His chest storage is in desperate need of unloading. _ I need to_. 

“Do whatever you want with me tonight,” he says instead, like the fool he is. 

Jeonghan gets shy, the same way he always gets when Mingyu is being sincerely gentle. His eyes drop from where they were previously on Mingyu’s face. It’s now probably somewhere around his shoulder. Mingyu doesn’t have excellent spatial awareness. 

“Can I be with you tonight, then?”

The air quiets down. “Like usual?”

“No, like, I don’t know. I just want to sleep with you,” Jeonghan stops himself short, looks down at his lap, making Mingyu ache even more as seconds pass by. “Things have been a bit shitty lately, that’s why I’ve been blowing a bit hot and cold.”

He has.

“But I realized something when I keep having trouble falling asleep. It’s fucking stupid, but I thought having you by my side would help. Just a hypothesis.”

Mingyu studies the dogged determination in Jeonghan’s eyes, something that wasn’t there half an hour ago as the latter stood at his doorstep. It must’ve taken a lot out of him to admit all of this. 

He takes in the softness of Jeonghan’s skin, his knobby fingers, the tapering of his eyelashes, his dainty nose that Mingyu wants so badly to kiss. Maybe the staring has gotten a bit much, because Jeonghan turns away, only showing the sharp line of his jaw. He wonders if Jeonghan’s always been that thin. At this rate, Mingyu thinks he’d have a permanent frown etched into his face by the end of the night.

“Do you wanna test your hypothesis?”

“You’re so nice today.”

“Am I not nice usually?”

Jeonghan chuckles airily. It still doesn’t reach his eyes yet, but Mingyu will take anything he gets. “Usually, you just...touch me. Today, you’re asking me what I want. Making sure I’m feeling okay.”

Mingyu still wants to touch him, but he also wants to make Jeonghan feel more than okay. Excellent, even. 

“Well, do you like it? Should I keep going?”

Jeonghan shakes his head, asks to be brought home instead.

The clothes that Jeonghan is wearing, is evidently Mingyu’s. It’s almost three times his size, hanging off edges, particularly tantalizing and maddening where the collar slides to the side, gravity taking course and showing his collarbone for the world to see. 

It shouldn’t be sinful, but Mingyu never expected just how hot he’d find this. He has to repeatedly tell himself that Jeonghan is here for a different reason.

Jeonghan is obviously going through the same turmoil Mingyu does. The same confusion with not knowing how to be around each other, how to be for each other when they’re not fucking. How to be present for each other.

“Can I come closer?” Jeonghan asks once they’re in bed, a careful distance between them under the covers.

“Of course.” 

Mingyu adjusts his body slightly, angling his chest so it’d face Jeonghan. In case it helps with familiarization. 

What he does not expect is Jeonghan sliding in much closer than he thought, an arm circling his waist in a loose arc. 

“Is this okay?”

Mingyu nods. He can’t trust his voice. Afraid that even one syllable could jeopardize his entire control. He thinks he might even be shaking right now, trying to hold himself back, instead of pouring himself out and smothering Jeonghan like he wants to. Incredibly unfair how this is the one thing he wants the most, yet he kept buried, and now that he’s presented with it, he can’t do anything. 

“You can touch me.”

Mingyu’s mind stills. “Huh?”

“Touch me,” Jeonghan repeats. He shifts to look up at Mingyu’s face. “Hold me, Mingyu.”

“I…”

“Do you not want to?” Jeonghan asks, but he’s already withdrawing his arm. On reflex, Mingyu grabs at it to stop him, to keep the warmth close.

“I want to.”

Jeonghan nods, waiting patiently, expectantly. Mingyu gingerly wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s frame, tiny and soft. He cradles the back of his head, out of habit when hugging people, then tightens his embrace. Something small and satisfied escapes Jeonghan, quiet but audible within their nonexistent distance.

A shudder blows through Mingyu. 

Jeonghan smells like him, surrounded by him. It’s not the earth-shattering sensation that Mingyu had expected, but it might as well be better. He can feel something locking into place inside him. Calm washes over him, to cope with his euphoria. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jeonghan sighs, muffled through Mingyu’s shirt. His breath is warm where it’s blowing on Mingyu’s shoulder. “It’s stupid. And embarrassing. But I felt like I needed to see you.”

His heart stutters in his chest. “Yeah?” he asks. He starts caressing Jeonghan’s hair in repetitive movement, hoping it translates well into encouraging him to go on.

“I think, this is stupid, but I think I sleep better with you.” Once it’s out in the air, the words making sense in Mingyu’s head, a poignant silence takes over. Jeonghan is nervous, it’s palpable, but Mingyu’s brain decides to freeze right that second. “When stuff went down, I craved you. Which is, you know, weird. Because it’s not my thing, but I started tossing and turning, and all I wanted was you. I wanted this.”

“That’s okay.” Mingyu doesn’t know why he said that. “I like that you’re honest.”

“You, on the contrary…”

“What? I’m always honest.”

Jeonghan snuggles closer, nose pressing into the crook of Mingyu’s neck, making his chest constrict even more. “I guess that’s true, but you hold back a lot. You’re hiding a lot.”

“I talk to you, though. About a lot things.”

“Except about what you feel. I’d rather be hurt from certainty, than from my own assumption.”

Mingyu gulps. That lump the size of a tennis ball is still stuck in his throat. “What assumption?”

“That you’re only being nice to me out of pity. That I’m the only one who wants you this way.”

It takes everything in him to just digest things, fighting the innate urge to kiss Jeonghan right there and then. Kiss him the way he’s never done before. Gently. Deeply. Slowly. 

Minutes pass by with Mingyu simply calming himself down, forcing rationality to take the front seat, weighing his options. His heart clenches when he realizes he fails, his mouth is already taking over.

“You’re not the only one,” he whispers. In the room, it echoes. Loud. 

There is no answer resounding back, though. The panic starts from his toes, extending upward until his head starts buzzing. 

At once, he understands, when he realizes how steady Jeonghan is breathing, how he’s gotten heavier where he’s basically sprawled over Mingyu. He’s fallen asleep.

Mingyu bites his lip, wondering if he was heard, weighing if he should say it again in the morning or stay silent and pretend it’s nothing. In the end, he leaves a surreptitious kiss on Jeonghan’s temple, a silent goodnight.

Morning comes with Jeonghan gone from his arms, from his bed.

The sheets have cooled down considerably, letting Mingyu know it’s been a while since Jeonghan left. He knows the latter has his morning shifts, so he doesn’t pay it any heed, simply brushes it off. A bit lonely, but bearable.

Something akin to regret is weighing him down, right at the core of his chest. He feels like he should’ve assured that Jeonghan heard what he had to say during the night.

So, then, he makes calls. Plural. Many of them. 

The first few calls go unanswered, after that, Jeonghan has his phone turned off.

Mingyu is aware how overbearing he can be, a fact he learned through Minghao, so he’s made sure not to overwhelm Jeonghan that way. He periodically calls with reasonable time gaps. Still, his calls never went through. 

Thanksgiving and Christmas go by like a blur, both holidays aren’t something Mingyu celebrates since leaving home. Even if he did, he couldn’t garner enough interest in himself to be jolly. He goes to parties, gets drinks, then goes back home alone. It’s not ideal, but he always gets himself shitfaced every time he visits the parties he’s invited to. Enough to make him unaware of not only his surroundings, but as well as of his thoughts, his feelings.

One thing he’s actively avoiding, is the one thing he knows he needs. His best friend.

Minghao is present in these parties, and Mingyu has somehow gained the ability to be slippery and avoid him, keeping their interactions to the minimum. 

All that effort goes down the drain, because if anyone knows Mingyu the best, it’s Minghao. There are equal parts of him that is both scared and grateful. Scared, because he doesn’t know what to say to his best friend. Grateful, because he knows he doesn’t have to. He’ll just have to not incur even more wrath from Minghao.

“Here, I think you’ll need this,” Minghao says, coming up beside Mingyu, handing him a can of beer. Beer isn’t Mingyu’s favorite, Minghao knows this. He’s being punished. 

This one party, Mingyu’s finally gotten tired of running and hiding. Cowering has never been his thing. He knows he wasn’t doing a great job at it, either. So, here’s Minghao standing next to him, both of them leaning on the wall of someone’s friend’s cousin’s apartment. 

No years of Minghao’s friendship will give a full insight to what his reaction will be, faced with tense situations. Mingyu can never tell, can never predict. 

“Thanks,” Mingyu replies quietly.

A cloud of smoke is thick over Minghao, a rare sight since months ago. Minghao had quit. 

“Having fun?” Minghao asks.

A sigh almost escapes Mingyu, but he gulps it back down with a wash of stale beer. God, Minghao even gave him the lukewarm one. Talk about detail.

What’s palpable aside from Minghao’s simmering anger, is the invisible wall dividing them. It’s taken Mingyu so long to make Minghao warm up to him and be one of his best friends, and he knows that trust is a big thing with Minghao. Now the guard is back up.

Mingyu shrugs. He really has no idea how to handle Minghao, though he brought himself to where he is right now. He ruined everything.

“That girl seems like a lot of fun,” Minghao says, cocking his head towards the direction of a girl standing not far off from them. “She’s been eyeing you for a while now.”

Mingyu’s line of sight follows Minghao’s, finding a girl already staring at him from where she’s perched on the edge of the sofa. A tall glass of drink sits in her grip, half-empty, and when they make eye contact, she leans back in her seat and takes a sip. An invitation.

“I…”

“Why?” 

The sharp tone makes Mingyu whip his head around, looking square at Minghao. It’s the first time that night they’re looking at each other. Challenge burns behind Minghao’s irises. It’s only thinly veiled by the wall of smoke as Minghao blows it through his nose. 

“Don’t tell me you already have someone? Without telling me?”

Edge seeps into each word, sending Mingyu punch after punch. It’s not a good time, not yet, for them to talk. Then so be it, he’s not gonna talk. 

He pushes himself off the wall, limbs heavy. Taking steps is hard, but he doesn’t want to admit defeat. What he’s doing has little to do with the inviting look the girl is giving him, much to do with Minghao’s expectant glare. 

Jeonghan gnaws at his mind, ever present, not even for one second letting up. 

The girl hands him her drink, urging him to down the rest of it. As Mingyu chugs it down, he can feel a hand resting on his chest, hot and insistent.

He fucks her that night, hard and fast, pouring every bit of the hatred he has for himself into each thrust. He tries imagining it’s Jeonghan under him, closing his eyes shut, but he can’t. So through the echo of his hollowed out heart, he looks at the girl dead in the eyes, loathing how she revels in his speed and strength. 

He never caught her name, never bothered to do it.

Addiction comes so easily to Mingyu. The sleeping around worsens the next few parties. It keeps happening, each time with a different person whose name Mingyu can’t remember, and he’s gotten so much better at pretending he’s with Jeonghan instead of a total stranger.

Minghao’s spiteful looks have turned into a pitiful one. Mingyu doesn’t know which one he hates less. At least, now he has his best friend back.

“You gotta stop this,” Minghao says.

They’re currently saddled in a stranger’s sofa, a pre-New Year party of some kind. Neither of them knows the host, but they still came anyway. There are unrecognizable faces, people who aren’t from their school, and Mingyu was in the midst of finding a potential bed-warmer when Minghao said that.

“Stop what?”

“You’re fucking miserable, the least you can do is be honest about that. I don’t care if you’ve been sleeping with someone I’ve had a crush on for years, at least talk to me, you dickhead.”

Mingyu stills. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Admit that you’re miserable, and that you’re using sex with strangers as a coping mechanism.”

“You have a crush on Jeonghan?”

Minghao scoffs, a smirk forming on his lips. “You’re so fucking clueless, Mingyu.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that, Minghao?”

“That’s fair,” Minghao says, slumping down in his seat. “I still don’t know why you kept avoiding me while you were seeing Jeonghan.”

Mingyu exhales, racking a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Guess I was scared of the questions. I knew you’d ask the right things.”

“Oh, like, are you in love with him?”

Mingyu’s eyelids drop, black covering his vision. He relies on the immobilized sense to distract himself from the quickening of his heart. 

“Hell if I know, Minghao.”

“He’s lovely, though, isn’t he?”

Flashes of Jeonghan lying asleep beside him, of him tracing the bridge of Jeonghan’s nose, of Jeonghan playing with his hair when they watch Netflix, of Jeonghan kissing his cheek after he comes, of them holding hands in Jihoon’s car late at night, Jeonghan’s palms being so soft but so cold. He even remembers when Jeonghan was so disoriented he woke Mingyu up at about four in the afternoon, thinking it was late morning and that he’s late to class. The memory tugs at the corners of Mingyu’s lips.

“He’s perfect.”

“You’re smitten, it’s disgusting.” Minghao stubs out his cigarette. He’s doing that a lot these days. The list of Mingyu’s concerns keeps growing. “You should stop fucking around, then, if you like him so much.”

Now, Mingyu scoffs. “He’s been unreachable for weeks now. Who’s to say he’s not doing some fucking around of his own?”

“If you want to be with Jeonghan, do you think liking him is enough? Sex isn’t going to fix every problem you will have. You’re not even gonna trust him?”

It’s not something new, not something that Mingyu hasn’t thought of. Though what he has with Jeonghan has exceeded the fuckbuddy territory, he’s aware that they’re lacking so much more, the fundamentals of what makes a relationship. 

“I’m just frustrated.”

“You haven’t contacted his friends? Maybe they know where he went, if anything happened at all.”

That catches Mingyu off guard. Such a simple suggestion, but never been executed at all.

“God, Minghao,” Mingyu says, snorting at himself and leaning back as the ridiculity of it all dawns on him. “I don’t even know any of his friends.”

It’s painfully obvious how bad of a not-boyfriend Mingyu is. He doesn’t think he’s ever _ asked _ Jeonghan about his friends. Never asked him anything personal. No wonder Jeonghan just up and left like that.

All because of pride. Because of his own fear. The sure notion that Jeonghan won’t ever feel what he feels. 

His frustration seems to send Minghao sagging backwards. He can sense his friend’s disappointment in him. From the corner of his eye, he spots Minghao reaching out for the cigarette box and he immediately slaps the extended hand.

“Stop.”

For a moment there, he really thought Minghao wouldn’t heed him any mind, but his friend swallows whatever words were about to spill, and buries his hand in his pocket. One crisis resolved, for now, at least.

“When’s the last time you called him?”

“Tried to call him, you mean,” Mingyu corrects. “Yesterday. I haven’t tried at all today, afraid that the same voicemail tone is still the one who’s gonna answer me.”

Minghao sighs. “Pretty complicated, huh.”

That’s one way to see it. What Mingyu thinks is that everything feels unfair, harrowing. He’s miserable, if it’s not already obvious. Even more so because he never saw how much despair he’d be in, without Jeonghan.

“Just text him for today,” Minghao supplies. “If you really want him that much—”

“I do want him that much.”

“Make sure he knows he’s not being forgotten.”

Mingyu visits the diner one Sunday. Aside from Jeonghan, he doesn’t really know anyone who works there. Every time he visited, it seemed like Jeonghan was always on a shift. He hopes it’d make his mission today easier to tackle.

“One hamburger and a milkshake, please,” Mingyu says once he’s at the counter. 

The server today is a girl, hair choppy and pinned at random places. She intimidates him. “What flavor?”

It doesn’t sound like a question, so Mingyu raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“The milkshake. What flavor?”

Mingyu wracks his brain, bites his lip when he stumbles upon another piece of Jeonghan between the folds of his memory. “Strawberry.”

“‘Kay.”

Then she leaves him. 

Only for a minute, because she’s back without a warning. And Mingyu just so happens to be the only customer sitting at the counter like this, alone with the waitress.

“I…” Mingyu starts.

“Cut to the chase.”

Thank God. “You know Jeonghan, right?”

The girl’s eyes narrow, making Mingyu regret asking at all. But then she responds with something that’s able to render Mingyu sitting straight in his seat. 

“Yeah, the other waiter.”

“Right,” Mingyu says, too excitedly for his own good. “Is he around? Maybe right now he’s on a break?”

A look crosses the girl’s face. It’s in no way particularly negative, but the sight wrongs Mingyu. At first it might be sympathy, but the angles the girl bears aren’t flattering, so it looks like plain pity. Mingyu doesn’t need pity. He needs Jeonghan.

“He hasn’t been around for a while, buddy.”

Even the way she says ‘_buddy_’, as good as her intentions might be, it still comes out condescending. Mingyu wants to leave, but he’s really actually hungry and he’d rather eat his burger first.

“Why? Do you know why?” he presses.

“Sorry, not sure.”

“But do you know where he might be?”

The girl shakes her head, lips downturned. Mingyu hates seeing it. “I really don’t know. I barely know him myself.”

“You work together, though?”

“We work at the same place, yeah, but together? No. I never had the same shift as him.”

Currently, more urgent than his hunger, is the urge to rip his own hair. He deems Jeonghan a pretty simple person, but everything that involves him—nothing but simple. His world has started sprouting ropes that tangle themselves together since he knew Jeonghan.

The only thing keeping him sane right now is the fresh and steaming burger in front of him. He realizes his whipped decision of ordering the strawberry milkshake is a wrong one. Chocolate still reigns superior to him. 

He leaves some tip for the waitress before he departs the diner. Really, he doesn’t want to exempt from being a decent person just because she was pretty unhelpful in the Jeonghan department. If Mingyu prodded more, he probably could’ve gotten the girl to give him Jeonghan’s address through their manager, but he remembered how intimidating he’d found the girl in the beginning.

Jihoon is home when Mingyu arrives. The sight of Jihoon standing before the oven is something that still needs getting used to, Mingyu can never familiarize himself with it. When Jeonghan was around, it’s less strange, so it’s even more painful for Mingyu to acknowledge.

“Don’t burn the whole place down,” he says over his shoulder.

Jihoon hums, quiet. “You’re not gonna stand by and watch?”

“Now why would I do that?” Mingyu makes himself busy, picking up trash he wouldn’t otherwise notice until it’s finally time for his biweekly cleaning spree. Nudges some furniture and decorations into place. Straightens the framed paintings on the wall. All the unimportant things.

“That’s what you usually do, when Jeonghan’s around.”

Mingyu’s hand stills, halts mid-air. He eyes the painting in front of him, the style familiar down to the color choice. Must be one of Minghao’s, his friend sure sends a lot of stuff for him to hang. 

A speck of dust sits on top of the dried oil paint, something that he flicks out of the way easily.

“He’s not around now, no?”

Mingyu can’t see Jihoon, his back facing the latter, but he knows he’s shrugging. Something pops in his head, then, bright and sudden.

“Has he contacted you recently?”

His body’s turned around before he can hold back, so Jihoon is now in full view. He receives another shrug as an answer. This time he can’t interpret what it means. 

Jihoon is only the sharing type when he wants to, but it doesn’t mean he’s extraordinary in hiding things. 

“Jihoon?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“You’re lying,” Mingyu accuses. “He hangs out with you, too, not just me. You guys get along well, don’t you?”

“And?” Jihoon stops his whisking, turns around swiftly to face Mingyu. “Do I owe you anything? Should I go run to you if he reached out to me?”

“You know how miserable I’ve been, Jihoon!”

“I do.” Jihoon crosses his arms, but to Mingyu it just looks like he’s tightly wound around himself instead of an intimidation tactic. “What I don’t know is how you never realized you made your own self miserable.”

“I never asked him to leave!”

“Stop shouting. And you’re only this miserable because you’re fucking scared.”

“Don’t swear at me.”

A cold look slides over Jihoon’s face before the back of his head is the only thing Mingyu can see. The conversation is done, it seems. And Mingyu still hasn’t gotten any answer. 

“Your feelings are eating at you, don’t think I don’t notice.” Mingyu looks up at the sound, never realized he’d started looking at the ground. “If you’d told him, you wouldn’t feel this much regret. If you’d told him, he could’ve possibly stayed. If you’d told him, if you’d told him.”

Exhaustion weighs Mingyu’s bones out of the blue, it occupies the spaces between his vertebrae and on top of his shoulders. His legs are starting to feel like jelly, and he seeks support behind him before he falls over.

For fuck’s sake, Yoon Jeonghan.

“What did he tell you?” Mingyu asks, once he’s securely supported by the counter. 

“Nothing,” Jihoon says lightly. “He never contacted me.”

It’s the truth, Mingyu can see. Breath is knocked out of him, some unseen force punching it right out of his lungs. Whether it’s relief or other unidentifiable emotion, he doesn’t know.

“You almost killed me, holy shit.”

“At least now you know you like him that much.”

Mingyu knocks over Jihoon’s bowl of dough, taking off right away and locking his door in the silence of Jihoon processing the scene. The curse resounds throughout the apartment.

It’s safe to assume Mingyu is hallucinating. 

He’d just gone back from a run, trying to find clarity in the cold. The wind didn’t just bite into his skin, more like gnawed through it, and he’d only gone back because it started sleeting. 

What he finds once he’s entered his living room, has made him believe he’s got hypothermia. 

Jeonghan is sitting on his couch, flipping through an outdated magazine.

“Jeonghan…?”

His voice comes out weak, cracking at the end where it trails off. 

He still doesn’t believe his eyes, even as Jeonghan whips his head around and stands up. Not comprehending, but not complaining, as Jeonghan walks up to him. 

Their stares burn into each other, both trying to get fills of what they’ve missed the past month. As usual, Mingyu reaches out first, always does. His fingers lost feelings a while ago due to the cold, but they still sought out Jeonghan. The simple sight of Jeonghan’s presence mobilizes his muscles.

In the next breath, he has Jeonghan in his arms. Without intending to, everything he’s felt in the timeframe of Jeonghan’s absence pours out. He doesn’t care how his anger and frustration and misery might show, only cares that Jeonghan knows he’s dearly missed. 

“Mingyu,” Jeonghan’s voice peeps from the folds of his jacket. “I can’t breathe.”

As much as it pains him, he lets go of Jeonghan, pausing his desire to smother him for longer. Even the sound of his voice rings so pleasantly in Mingyu’s ears, real and warm and close compared to the recorded one from his voicemail tone. 

Relief floods through him when he draws back and is met by the smile he’s yearned to see so damn much. It’s small, but warm and indulging, the way Jeonghan tends to be. 

Mingyu’s arms are already itching to take Jeonghan back in them. 

He only stares as Jeonghan rubs his palms together, rather violently, then to his shock, they were put on his cheeks. 

Another thing he remembers is how Jeonghan’s hands are always cold. Now they’re warm on his skin, palms as soft as he recalls. 

“You’re cold,” Jeonghan says, eyebrows slightly creased in worry.

Mingyu is totally having hallucinations.

He’d imagined a lot, what would happen if Jeonghan does turn up. All of his scenarios involved explosive scenes. They’d fight, they’d cry, they’d shout and scream. 

This is nothing like that. Even now, he still can’t find the words to say. Any word. 

The warmth on his skin makes him sleepy, his eyelids getting heavier by the second, but he refuses to let them drop. He can’t be sure Jeonghan will still be here once he opens his eyes. Even blinking is out of the question.

His eyes heat up, though, when he feels thumbs gently rub the space under his eyes back and forth. If he has his eyes closed right now, he can imagine them on his eyelids, feathery but constant. 

They never acknowledged tenderness, but Mingyu wants this one to not go forgotten. 

“Are you staying?” he asks, voice breaking with anxiety slipping through the cracks.

“I’m sorry.” His heart drops. “I have to go, but I promise I’ll see you soon.”

Mingyu traps Jeonghan’s hands on his face, clutching onto them and blocking any escape route. 

“No.”

“Mingyu,” Jeonghan says. His heart twists inside his ribs, its yearning fulfilled. “I promise. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

“You’re gonna leave me again.”

Breath whooshes out of Jeonghan, seemingly knocked out of his lungs. It’s not the exasperated kind, but Mingyu still feels cornered for having the fear of Jeonghan’s abandonment. 

Jeonghan’s hands on his face guide him closer, close enough he can see the flakiness on his skin, the stray eyelash stuck at his lower lash line, the discoloration on his cheek. Mingyu loves him. 

“I’m sorry I left like that.” The thumbs are in motion again. Mingyu doesn’t take his eyes off Jeonghan. “I was a coward, and I’ll make it up to you, but not now. Please, Mingyu, the time won’t be enough right now.”

Something childish constricts his chest at the thought of Jeonghan leaving through the door again, him powerless against the force of Jeonghan’s will to never return to him. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Mingyu says. So many people would like to hear that from him, but Jeonghan is the one who he owes it the most. “I shouldn’t have held back. I should’ve told you everything.”

“You’ve already shown me,” Jeonghan replies. A somber smile blooms on his lips. “When you let me in that night, I knew.”

There are too many nights they share that it’s momentarily confusing for Mingyu, but he realizes that Jeonghan means the night before he vanished. 

“But, Mingyu, I really need to go. It’s not about you, I promise.” Jeonghan searches his eyes, and they’re right there for him to look into. Mingyu has decided on being unabashed of the crackling fire inside him, wants Jeonghan to know it burns for him. “You weren’t the only one I hurt by my absence, I worried so many people. I’ll call you when I’ve reserved the time for you only. Please.”

It’s heavy, that Mingyu thinks it’d hurt less to have his lungs collapsing, than to let Jeonghan go right now. But he finds it in him to release his grip on Jeonghan, letting his hands settle idly on either sides of his hips.

“Seal the promise,” Mingyu demands. “Kiss me.”

For a second, he thinks Jeonghan isn’t going to do it. He’s openly taken aback, but his expression settles in no time. A smile, soft and warm this time, adorn his face. Mingyu holds himself back from leaning in first. 

The kiss is chaste, Mingyu can feel Jeonghan’s smile on his lips. It throws him right back to mornings spent tangled with each other, bare skin on another, the sheets messy and warm from their body heat. He doesn’t want to let go.

He can barely feel anything from the press of lips, so airy and soft. What does pop in his head is a translucent shade of pink, swirling, an enough touch of sweet that is not cloying. The most clarity he’s ever had. 

When they part, Jeonghan seems to know that Mingyu won’t be able to bear seeing him walk away, so he leaves another kiss on his nose, another brush of his thumb against his cheekbone, and only then he steps aside and out. 

A few days later - a few days too many - Jeonghan calls, and when it ends, sends Mingyu the location of his place.

Trivial, maybe, but Mingyu realizes that he was never allowed to come over to Jeonghan’s place. It’d either be too far (or, Mingyu’s place is closer), or Jeonghan wasn’t home. Such a simple thing to be giddy about.

Mingyu cannot remember the last time he nitpicked on the outfit he’s going to wear. This time, he wants to look good, not just presentable, he wants to look delectable. He wants Jeonghan to want him. The amount of time he spent dolling himself up is embarrassing, but no one knows except him, and the knowledge won’t hurt anyone as long as it’s contained. 

They catch each other in front of Jeonghan’s door. Mingyu had probably looked equally ridiculous and suspicious, standing there in the hallway without knocking at the door, staring at the unit number though he knew he got it right. _ 1219_, Jeonghan’s text had said. 

Jeonghan has his keys out, frozen mid-air just as Mingyu is, while they study each other in the dim lighting. “I didn’t know you’d be here this early,” Jeonghan breaks the silence, setting into motion. 

For, not the first time, but might as well be, in Mingyu’s life that he remembers, he can’t utter a single word as a response. He genuinely has no answer to that. It doesn’t warrant an excuse, but he feels like he should justify himself for loitering outside Jeonghan’s place.

The apartment is warm, something that reminds Mingyu of Jeonghan’s intolerance to cold, aside from the fact the latter is buried in layers of clothes. Legs pausing momentarily in fear of intruding, but Jeonghan is welcoming, eyes expectant while he waits for Mingyu to toe his shoes off. 

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“Beer would be nice.”

Jeonghan pauses, but nods and pads away softly. 

The interior is quite simple, looking like it’s the default design from the building. There is little Mingyu can work with, no defining and personalizing features that he can notice. It’s got two bedrooms, but Mingyu hadn’t seen any extra pair of shoes, and the door next to him is shut, the other is a few feet in front of him and slightly ajar. 

“My roommate isn’t home,” Jeonghan supplies, handing Mingyu a fresh can of beer, “here you go.”

A matching beverage is in Jeonghan’s hand, but Mingyu’s eyes travel like they always do, up up up to where he can meet Jeonghan’s gaze fixed upon him. 

“Aren’t you hot?” 

Jeonghan looks down at his thick coat and blinks. “Right,” he says, then unbuttons it to presumably put it away. He disappears into the room with the ajar door – Mingyu has to stop himself from trying to peek – and reappears only to suck the breath out of Mingyu’s lungs.

Flashes of skin are shown through the holes of Jeonghan’s loose-knitted sweater. It’s nowhere near suggestive, but to Mingyu who hasn’t been able to see Jeonghan at all, he can’t help but rake his eyes over Jeonghan’s figure. He’s wearing a black tank top underneath, to add more layer maybe, but it only proves to drive Mingyu insane the more seconds tick by.

“I’ll change,” Jeonghan announces.

Whatever motoric neuron takes over his sound judgment, Mingyu doesn’t know, only knows he’s already grabbing Jeonghan to hinder him from walking away any farther. 

“Mingyu,” Jeonghan says. A mild warning leaks through his voice, but it’s not strong enough to repel Mingyu. So he doesn’t let go, doesn’t even think of slackening his grip. 

The wall that is Jeonghan’s resolve crumbles after a minute. Mingyu is pulled along towards the room, giddiness filling his body. 

This is probably not the right way to solve their problems, especially when their initial purpose to meet was to talk. Nothing feels remotely wrong about it, not when Jeonghan kicks his door shut and lets Mingyu push him against the wooden surface. They’ve done this and each other a lot, and no one can blame the fact that they’re both creatures of habit. 

Mingyu thinks of the people he slept with in pursuit of Jeonghan’s replacement, thinks of how grave of a mistake that was. One, because no one can replace Jeonghan; two, because he shouldn’t have slept with any of them in the first place. He has always belonged to Jeonghan. This is what he should’ve realized the second numbness hit him along with Jeonghan’s absence. 

For every single time he fucked a stranger, he kisses Jeonghan the same amount. A silent apology. A segue into the explanation he owes him.

Jeonghan is pink and panting and very naked under him once they’re in bed, a sight that Mingyu can never get exhausted of. Pride surges in his chest when Jeonghan keeps chanting: “I want you, please, I want you.”

In his rush to find condoms and lube, Mingyu barely avoids knocking over an ashtray. He has no time to dwell over how full it is because Jeonghan is already whining for him.

“Good?” he watches Jeonghan’s face transform from discomfort to pleasure. He keeps asking periodically, to make sure Jeonghan is really feeling good, only to receive unintelligible babbles as his answer. 

Mingyu tunes his ears to every sound Jeonghan makes. Every sigh, every gasp, every mewl that escapes his mouth. He leaves a spattering of kisses along his jaw, up to the spot right under his earlobe. Jeonghan keens then, grasping at Mingyu’s shoulders then at the sheets then back at Mingyu. 

The fingers tangled in his hair are drawing pain, but Mingyu ignores it, focuses on leaning back as he drinks Jeonghan in. A few strands of hair is matted to his forehead, the rest bouncing with their movement. When Jeonghan tightens around him, Mingyu wants nothing more than screw his eyes shut and revel in his high. He forces his eyes open, though, to indulge himself in a sight more orgasmic than the feeling of his own release. 

A cry escapes Jeonghan, followed by one last soft sound. Mingyu watches the way his mouth is as open as his eyes are shut. Flush is high in his cheeks, his skin damp and way too warm. He leans down to muffle his own grunt, then presses a kiss on Jeonghan’s cheek. When he pulls back, Jeonghan’s eyes are open again, staring right back at him. 

“Good?” he asks. 

Jeonghan reaches for him, whine high in his throat as he begs for a kiss. “Really good,” he answers against Mingyu’s lips.

Mingyu’s arms are starting to burn from the exertion of holding himself up, but he stays that way a bit longer. His hand moves on its own, before he realizes, finding its way into the tangle of Jeonghan’s hair. He swallows the sighs Jeonghan releases, fingers absently alternating between carding his hair and gently massaging his scalp. 

“Those beers are getting warmer the longer we stay like this,” Jeonghan mumbles.

“Want me to go get them?” 

Jeonghan grunts, shifting in the bed and stretching his legs. “No, I’ll do it.”

Mingyu is left to watch as Jeonghan sits up, gathering a blanket around him. It hugs his lithe figure, and something inside Mingyu burns at the sight. His palms itch to tug Jeonghan in, to put his arms around him. 

With two new cans of beer and a freshly cleaned ashtray, Jeonghan shuffles back inside the room. He puts them on the nightstand to crawl into Mingyu’s waiting arms. This is how it should be, Mingyu thinks, Jeonghan nestled beneath blankets and his embrace. Mingyu deems it safe to keep peppering the side of Jeonghan’s face with kisses, receiving no sound signaling dissent or discomfort. 

He lets go of Jeonghan when the latter tries to pry himself off. At first he’s anxious, but it turns out to not be a rejection. Jeonghan hands him the beer and cracks the other one open for himself. After his first sip, he abandons the can and takes a cigarette out of its half-empty box. Mingyu frowns at it, declines when Jeonghan offers him one. 

Jeonghan leans against the headboard, taking a drag out of his cigarette. Mingyu doesn’t mean to romanticize, but the swirl of smoke surrounding Jeonghan is adding another layer to his existing shroud of mystery. If they were previously separated by a highway, this detachment that only Jeonghan can pull is making cracks in the asphalt, giving way into a chasm. 

“Come here,” Jeonghan beckons. Readily, Mingyu occupies the space Jeonghan provides for him, even burying his face in the crook of Jeonghan’s neck. He can feel the arm draped around his shoulder, not as strong as his, but feels safe and solid nonetheless. 

Maybe Jeonghan doesn’t know how to start this, maybe he simply wants to be satisfied with his nicotine fix first, because they stay silent for quite some time. Mingyu barely stops himself from nodding off, keeping himself busy by tracing the outline Jeonghan’s ribs. He likes that Jeonghan isn’t ticklish like him, likes that his hands can roam. 

After flicking the ash and blowing a plume of smoke, Jeonghan starts to talk.

“I’m sorry,” he says, then repeats it while looking at Mingyu, “I’m so sorry, Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s stomach turns, something acidic forming a ball in his throat. “You already told me that.” 

A sigh full of smoke. Jeonghan stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, his hand cupping Mingyu’s jaw once it’s free. “I think I owe you all the _ sorry _’s in the world. I should’ve done better.” Jeonghan searches his face. “When I came to you that night, you remember, right?”

Mingyu doesn’t think he can forget even if he wanted to, so he nods. 

“It’s my dad,” Jeonghan says, eyelids sliding shut. The action now feels more like a way for him to calm himself, a shield against the emotions that are threatening to spill out. Mingyu waits, even though his heart drops when he sees Jeonghan’s schooled his face into an impassive mask. “I went back home because of him.”

Mingyu can sense Jeonghan is antsy, right under the surface of his forced nonchalance. He knows Jeonghan is itching to light another cigarette, by the tapping of his fingers against the comforter, the other hand playing with the hair on Mingyu’s nape. 

“Actually, it’s my mom and my sister that made me hop on the next train home.” Words are finding their matches behind Jeonghan’s distant eyes. Mingyu hates when Jeonghan gets inscrutable like this, but he forces himself to be patient. “Old man got a death scare, wanted me home in case he actually dies. Disregarding the fact I had to suffer for years, struggling to live by my own means ‘cause he didn’t want me as a son if I don’t straighten myself up.”

If this were months or years ago, when the scar is still fresh, Mingyu can imagine Jeonghan crying, much like when Mingyu first saw him, as he says this. But now, a vacant smile takes over his features, the face of someone who’s laughing at someone else’s anguish instead of his own. He doesn’t know which one he hates less. 

“It was so easy for him to summon me back home, Mingyu.” Mingyu’s head snaps to attention at his name. This whole time he’d let Jeonghan do his monologue and not try to interrupt by blending into the silence. “One occurrence, and he got me jeopardizing everything I had to build on my own. My friendships, my jobs. Us.”

Unexpected weight is lifted off his body, that Mingyu has to clutch onto Jeonghan’s sides to ground himself. His burning stare is reciprocated, and Mingyu can’t trust himself enough not to imagine the same longing in him mirrored in Jeonghan’s eyes. 

Quiet rolls over them, allowing some time to let things register, to simply be in each other’s presence the way they never got to. When it’s obvious Jeonghan isn’t going to say anything anymore, Mingyu clears his throat. 

“I contributed to that, too.” Jeonghan looks at him, face painted with question. “Jeopardizing us, you didn’t do that alone.”

It’s a weighted statement, Jeonghan seems to know. He reaches out for another cigarette and lights it, patiently waiting for Mingyu to continue as he inhales a lungful of smoke. 

“I slept with other people while you were gone.”

Jeonghan takes the cig out of his mouth, blows the smoke with purpose, the rest filtering out of his nose. “Were you drunk?”

“Sometimes. The other times, I’m sober.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu whispers, then repeats it louder, “I’m so sorry.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I was expecting to find your replacement. Which is dumb, now that I think about it.” Mingyu shifts, straightening up slightly so he’s now half-sitting, his right arm supporting his weight. He studies Jeonghan’s face, carefully blank now and not looking at him. “They’re not you. They can never make me feel like how I feel about you.”

Another long drag of smoke. Withdrawn eyes that now fall on him. “What do you feel about me?”

This is a question that Mingyu knows will come, but he still gulps down the lump in his throat. It won’t go away, and his voice comes out small because of it. “I want you. I want you for me.”

There’s a pause where Jeonghan sits there, the silence poignant, before he props his half-burned cigarette against the ashtray. His now free hand settles beneath Mingyu’s jaw, cupping the side of his face. It’s cold, as Jeonghan’s hands always are, but Mingyu doesn’t mind. He doesn’t dare disrupt whatever process that is obviously going on in Jeonghan’s head. 

“Haven’t you realized?” Jeonghan asks. 

Mingyu gives a small shake of his head. The hand on his cheek moves, the thumb seeking his bottom lip and brushes it back and forth. Jeonghan’s touch is feathery, like he’s afraid of pressing harder. 

“Mingyu, you have me.”

The following weeks, a heady quality permeates the air surrounding Mingyu. It’s been like that since he and Jeonghan really got together. He feels like walking on air, and everyone seems to notice. Even his mom, through a call, commented on how cheery he sounds. 

Undeniably, Mingyu is still on his high. He and Jeonghan are still in their reparation stage, undoing what they did wrong in the relationship. Every time he remembers Jeonghan opening up to him, be it as small as telling him he failed cooking his dinner, his heart swells. Going from being starved of Jeonghan’s presence, wondering what the other is doing until he almost suffocates, to now receiving pictures of Jeonghan squeezed inside the subway, his forehead creasing and lips pouting. It’s enough to make Mingyu feel included. 

They are unlearning the things they’re used to. Mingyu doesn’t step on eggshells anymore - what he wants, he says. What he feels, he expresses. Jeonghan asks him from time to time, if he wants to know anything, because he doesn’t know where to begin. Through this, Mingyu realizes the layers Jeonghan possesses. 

Jeonghan works two jobs, three if he can find a way around his schedule, and he took an absence of leave last semester. The diner is his weekend job, his weekdays are filled with classes and shifts at a coffee shop near Mingyu’s place. 

Even right now, Mingyu is on his way to surprise Jeonghan at the cafe. It astounds him to realize how many times he’s passed by the place, and not know Jeonghan would’ve been inside. As it turns out, the people there are more familiar with Jeonghan. If he’d known sooner, during the time Jeonghan was gone, he could’ve gotten an answer faster by asking around there. 

“Welcome! Good…afternoon,” Jeonghan trails off at the sight of Mingyu. He blinks, composing himself. “What would you like to have?”

“Two hot lattes, one brownie, and one carrot cake, please.”

Mingyu presses his lips together to suppress his smile, watching Jeonghan making the same amount of effort to concentrate on his job. “Expecting someone?” Jeonghan asks. 

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, handing Jeonghan a slightly crumpled bill. 

Jeonghan hums. “Who? A date?”

“Yup,” Mingyu confirms. “You.”

Jeonghan cracks first, biting his lip to stop his smile from spreading further. “I’m on a shift.”

“Now you’re not,” someone quips from beyond the counter. Mingyu tilts his head to see a guy in front of the espresso machine, wearing a different apron from Jeonghan. A supervisor? “Go use your break.”

Even though he’s obviously embarrassed, Jeonghan still finishes Mingyu’s order before joining him at the table. Mingyu deliberately chooses the window seat, wanting to see Jeonghan in the slowly disappearing sunlight.

“When I told you where I work, I wasn’t expecting a surprise visit this soon,” Jeonghan whispers once he’s seated in front of Mingyu.

Mingyu smiles. Things have always felt right with Jeonghan, but to do things as mundane as this, his heart feels like it’s going to burst. He never even realized how much he’d wanted normalcy with Jeonghan. 

“Which one do you want?”

Jeonghan points at the carrot cake. Readily, Mingyu cuts the cake into biteable sizes. It’s nowhere near being necessary, but it’s worth the flustered face Jeonghan makes. 

“You should stop spoiling me before I get used to it.”

“I want you to get used to it,” Mingyu replies, pushing the plate towards Jeonghan. He props his face with his palm, intently watching Jeonghan as he eats. “How’s your shift so far?”

Humming around his fork, Jeonghan answers after swallowing his cake. “Uneventful. A customer spilled her coffee, but that’s not unusual.”

“What did you have for lunch?”

“Uh, I forgot.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes. “You forgot what you ate, or you forgot if you ate?”

A sheepish smile slips into Jeonghan’s face, his eyes turned down at his dessert to avoid Mingyu’s questioning gaze. “The second one.”

“Do you want me to start bringing you lunch?”

“No!” Jeonghan’s eyes widen, scandalized. “Don’t do that.”

Mingyu chuckles. It’s a joke, he doesn’t think he will always have the time and motivation to bring Jeonghan lunch regularly, but if Jeonghan asked him to, he’d never say no. 

“I like you,” Mingyu blurts out, after a few minutes observing Jeonghan eat his cake, crumbs sticking around the outside of his lips. 

The cafe isn’t crowded, which makes the clatter of spoon falling echoes louder. Mingyu has to stifle his snort as Jeonghan scrambles to get the silverware under the table. When he reemerges, his face is red, due to what Mingyu hopes is unrelated with having to squat and feel around for a spoon. But very related to being thrown off balance by Mingyu’s words. 

“Just because you’re my boyfriend now, doesn’t mean you can say that randomly.”

This time, Mingyu chokes on his coffee. He is so lucky that it’s no longer scalding hot, but he still glares at Jeonghan’s small, smug grin. 

They don’t say things like that a lot - another thing that they’re currently unlearning - that when it happens, it surprises both of them. Not starting out as a normal couple, retracing their own steps proves to not be easy. It’s still hard to be honest, so much easier to omit, with how simple communication used to be so complicated to carry out. 

Sitting here, though, his palm upturned in a silent request, Mingyu thinks it will be worth it. Especially when Jeonghan understands, slides his hand across the table and holds Mingyu’s. No matter how much they’ve done, compared to this, Mingyu can’t recall when the ventricle of his heart had ever felt this full. 

With fingers interlaced with his own, Mingyu knows it will be worth it, will make sure it’s worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the mods for organizing this, for being very efficient & understandable! this gave me a great opportunity for me to push myself into bringing this baby into fruition. when i found out the theme for this round's jukebox is hozier, i just knew i should join. though i feel like i butchered the hell out of talk with this fic, making it more or less vaguely inspired by the song instead of based on it. i hope this was immensely enjoyed nonetheless ;__; thank you for reading !


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